


she's exactly his baby sister's type

by weekend_conspiracy_theorist



Series: the wrong leather jacket [3]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F, barry and joe and wally are also all there but mostly only as cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 18:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6918352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekend_conspiracy_theorist/pseuds/weekend_conspiracy_theorist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len would really just like to reassure himself that his sister's okay and then go to sleep, but Lisa's not picking up, Ramon has her bugged, and apparently one of the Wests is wearing his jacket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	she's exactly his baby sister's type

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragdragdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragdragdragon/gifts).



> I love you, Jamie <3

He’s tired.

 

He’s tired, and he’s just gotten to 2016, and when he tried to call Lisa all he got was her terrifyingly chipper voicemail recording. He’s not really freaked out, because she had no way of expecting his call, and she can take care of herself probably even better than he can take care of her, and she’s almost certainly just out on the town with Shawna or Hartley or Mark or even Ramon, but.

 

But his baby sister didn’t answer his phone call when she hasn’t seen him for months and he was off time-traveling and fighting an evil, immortal dictator.

 

What right does he have to assume that her life is any more uneventful than his?

 

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then calls Ramon. He’s a bit loathe to admit he’d tracked down the man’s phone number (which had seemed prudent when Ramon and Lisa had begun to pursue a tentative friendship while he himself had been serving time for Lewis’s death) and waste that trump card for something so mundane–but he’s pretty sure that Ramon and Lisa both have each other bugged to hell.

 

It’s their version of mutual trust, or something.

 

He doesn’t pretend to get it.

 

Ramon picks up on the second ring. “Go for Cisco!” he shouts, happy and giddy and trying to be heard over the sound of obnoxious pop music–the kind that Len knows Lisa is intolerably fond of. (Though he’s gotten the impression Ramon might be as well, so it doesn’t mean anything.)

 

“Hi,” Len drawls, putting as much of his signature nasally-bored-and-unimpressed tone into the one word as he possibly can.

 

The music suddenly halts.

 

“Captain Cold?” Ramon asks, suspicious, and someone (Barry Allen, Len suspects) hisses, “What?!?” in the background.

 

“Where the hell have you… How did you… Did Lisa…?”

 

“None of your business, nice try, and no. Is she there?”

 

“Do you think she wouldn’t have snatched the phone out of my hand and verbally abused you while we all cackled in the background, if she were?”

 

Len blows out a sharp breath, the closest he’ll get to admitting Ramon has a point. “Know where she is?”

 

“I, uhm. Can find out?” The silence stretches. “I’ll go do that.”

 

“I’ll come to you.”

 

“That is really not nece–”

 

Len hangs up.

 

*** 

 

STAR Labs still looks like shit.

 

He’s been gone for nearly a year, and they haven’t bothered to try and fix up the place. He’d understand the sentiment, vaguely, if “Team Flash” weren’t actively using the place as headquarters, but as it is he’s exhausted and in a foul mood and not exorbitantly pleased with drafty architecture making his parka more necessity than fashion statement.

 

“Fix your damn roof,” is his opening growl as he stalks into the Cortex, side-eyeing the detective and making a beeline for Ramon’s workstation. There’s no evidence of any celebration in particular, but everyone’s gathered–he wonders if he’s simply interrupting a normal work night, or if they cleaned up in anticipation of his arrival.

 

He doesn’t much care.

 

“Do you understand how expensive it would be to–” Barry cuts off at Len’s glower. “Yeah, okay, Cisco, just tell him where Lisa is and get him off my property?”

 

“Yesterday,” West adds. Well, the elder West, as the younger–wait, are there two? Len narrows his eyes at the new kid, mentally matching features to the other two, then raises one eyebrow.

 

“Is this a family affair, now?” he drawls. The kid opens his mouth and takes a half-step forward (bit of a hothead, Len notes for future reference), but his sister sticks out a hand to halt him in his tracks.

 

“You’re here looking for your sister; I’m not sure you have room to talk,” Iris tells him, tone utterly scathing. Her chin is up, eyes narrowed, posture perfect; the very definition of strong and defiant and elegant–god, but he hopes she never meets Lisa. She’s exactly his baby sister’s type and Lisa doesn’t mind fraternizing with the enemy, as her friendship with Ramon proves.

 

“SPEAKING OF LISA,” Ramon says unnecessarily loudly, trying to break the staring contest between Iris and Len. “I could have told you where she was _over the phone,_ you Philistine. She’s at that karaoke bar downtown, getting drunk and rowdy with Peek-a-Boo and Pied Piper. In fact, Barry, you should probably go ahead and head that direction, because the three of them are inevitably going to start a bar fight.”

 

“Two of them,” Iris corrects, and there’s something strangely _fond_ in her tone. “It’s really just Li–Glider and Boo, who do the fighting. Piper keeps himself to snide comments.”

 

She brushes a strand of hair back behind her ear, and now that Len’s looking–

 

“Is that my jacket?” he asks, blankly. There’s a rough patch on one side, where it saved him from road rash once-upon-a-learning-to-ride-a-motorcycle, and it hangs baggy on her slim form, obviously made for someone taller and broader.

 

Iris’s eyes widen, and West the Eldest and West the Youngest both turn in unison to stare at her; Ramon claps a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh. Barry resignedly sets his hand over his eyes, like he knows what’s coming and doesn’t want to witness it.

 

“Oh, god, she did say she stole it from her brother,” Iris whispers. (Ramon falls out of his chair, officially laughing his ass off.) “I just–at the time I didn’t know she was Golden Glider so I didn’t–”

 

“ _That’s_ who you’re dating?!?” West the Eldest demands.

 

Iris spreads her hands a little helplessly, shrugging slightly, and Len hooks a toe around Ramon’s vacated chair to tug it over to himself, dropping into it heavily. He pinches the bridge of his nose, elbows planted on his knees, and squeezes his eyes tightly shut. “Ramon, when you’re done having a fit, could you please contact my sister and tell her to get her ass over here?”

 

“Dude, I’m pretty sure she’ll take Iris’s call before mine,” the engineer snickers back, and Len feels his final shred of dignity flee his body.

 

He rises back to his feet, runs his hand down his face one last time, and says, tiredly, to the general air, “Please just ask her to call me.”

 

*** 

 

Lisa stumbles into his safehouse late that night- or particularly early the next morning, depending on how you want to look at it- and slams open what seems like every cabinet door in his kitchen while looking for… he has no idea.

 

Whatever it is that a drunk and slap happy Lisa Snart searches through a cabinet for at three-thirty in the morning; he knows her the best of anyone, but there’s no one in the world who understands every thought that crosses her mind.

 

He rubs bleary eyes, and is just about to lever himself out of bed when she enters his room–a whirlwind, as ever, smelling like bourbon and whiskey and spicy perfume, dropping into bed next to him, stealing all of his blankets, and prodding him into a comfortable shape for herself to cuddle with.

 

“In the morning,” she softly assures him, her hair a golden cloud on the pillow behind her, “I’m going to kick your fucking ass for leaving without warning.” She hugs his arm tightly, a little petulant as she adds, “But I missed you, Lenny.”

 

“I missed you, too,” he agrees, wriggles his arm out of her grip (to protests) and puts it around her instead, curls his fingers in the soft fabric of her t-shirt and thanks whatever cosmic being might be out there for deciding he’d somehow done enough good in his life to deserve having a sister like her.

 

Or maybe she’s done enough bad to deserve him as her brother; it could go either way.

 

“And after you beat me up in the morning,” he mutters, “you’re going to explain how the fuck you ended up dating Iris West.”

 

Lisa doesn’t have the good grace to be embarrassed, or even shocked that he already knows; she just cackles, rolling flat onto her back and throwing an arm dramatically over her eyes. “She’s so pretty,” she croons, drunk and slurring and more than a little in love. “And she hit on me at a club then stole my jacket.”

 

“My jacket,” Len mutters.

 

“Then later, she beat up a mugger for me,” Lisa says, dreamily. “And to think I was just going to shoot him.”

 


End file.
